Foster's Foster Kid
by writer1900
Summary: Gillian Foster finally has a second chance at raising a child, but instead of a baby, this time she's got a shy, abused teen with a mysterious past and a complex nature. Between Cal's prying, Foster's desperate attempts to get her to open up, and Emily's crazy school, how will Rose Darling, Foster's foster kid, cope with the Lightman Group and their untraditional life?
1. Chapter 1

Bounce.

Bounce.

Bounce.

Bounce, went the slinky, as it bounced up and down on Cal Lightman's desk, Cal staring at it intently. The slinky in question was the ordinary sort of slinky you'd happen across in a dollar store, and Cal stared at it as though the cheap plastic had hypnotized him.

"Cal, what are you doing?" Dr. Gillian Foster said from the doorway of Lightman's office, hovering just inside the way she did when she was studying him or had a question that she was nervous about. Or both, in this case, as Cal noticed.

"I've just solved the case," Cal said, snapping up from his desk with the slinky in hand, bouncing it as he grabbed his jacket and walked briskly towards Gillian and the door.

Gillian pursed her lips, sighed and cocked her head, as she always did when trying to deal with Cal the shrink way. "What case, Cal?" she asked.

"The one with the car crash. And the woman," Cal said, as if there was nothing more obvious in the world.

Gillian raised her eyebrows. "You're going to have be a little more specific about which case you're talking about, Cal."

"No need. I've just solved it."

Gillian sighed. "Ok, great, Cal, but-"

"Wanna know how?" Cal asked, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "Her son. He had a slinky. Played with one just like this through the entire interview Torres did with him. And I'll bet that cheap plastic was just pliable enough to get stuck behind the wheel of her car and mess up all the wiring,"

"Well, that's a great theory, Cal," Gillian said, her memory jogged on which case he was referring to, "But we already know that her son wasn't in the car that day. She told us herself,"

Cal stuck his face in really close to hers, their noses almost touching. "Well I think she's lying."

Gillian rolled her eyes. "Ok, Cal, congratulations, you solved the case, but-"

"-but that's not why you came to my office," Cal finished, cutting her off. "So why did you come pay me a visit, Foster?"

Gillian's whole face relaxed with micro-expressed happiness when he asked. "Well," she said, smiling, "My application to be a foster parent went through. If all goes well with the kid, things could even lead to adoption,"

"Well, that's fantastic," Cal said, "Congratulations. So why did you come to my office?"

"I need next week off," Gillian said plainly. "Things are moving a lot faster than expected, and I get my new foster daughter on Monday."

"A week?!" Cal exclaimed. "I can't give you a week! We already have too many employees going away next week! You know I can't give you that, Foster,"

"Cal, she needs me, especially for the first week!" Gillian cried, exasperated. "This could finally be my chance to have a kid! And you're just gonna take that away from me?"

Cal sighed, knowing how much adoption meant to Foster. "Fine," he said.

"You'll give me the week?" Gillian asked hopefully. "Absolutely not," Cal said, "I don't have the manpower. But I'll let you bring her here to spend time with her, and you don't have to do any work unless I desperately need you for something. Good enough compromise?"

"Good enough," Gillian said with a sigh and a micro expression of irritation in her eyes. "But seriously, there better be some kind of emergency for you to call me away from her. You know how much this means to me, Cal,"

"Yes I do," Cal said. "So, tell me about your new foster kid. What's her name? Is it Sofie?" Cal sat back down at his desk, putting his feet up.

"No, it's not," Gillian said, cocking her head with feigned annoyance. "Don't even joke about that. Her name is Rosie, Rosie Darling."

"Rosie Darling? How old is she, two?" Cal asked.

Gillian pursed her lips. "She's fifteen, only a year or two younger than Emily."

"Oh, perfect!" Cal said. "We'll have to introduce them. And your kid sounds wonderful, Foster. But we'll have to do something about that name. Rosie Darling, really? For a teenager?"

Gillian sighed, cocked her head, and pursed her lips. "Cal. Please be gentle to her when I bring her in. She's coming from an abusive home, you know. She needs support, not... you,"

"Hey!" Cal said, sitting back up in his chair. "I take offence to that!"

"You should," Gillian said, catching the obvious lie. "But seriously, Cal, be nice."

"I will," Cal said flippantly. "What kind of abuse are we talking?"

Gillian shrugged. "No one knows. She's very reluctant to talk about it, as is her dad, who was the perpetrator,"

"What's his name?" Cal asked, already running through the possibilities in his mind.

"I don't know, Cal, I haven't even met her yet! But she is not a case of yours to try and solve, so just stay out of it, alright?"

Cal, noticing the nervousness in Gillian's voice and posture, dropped it. "Alright, I won't try and crack your little mystery. As long as you try not to worry so much about Rosie. You're gonna be a great mum,"

Gillian's shoulders dropped, a cue that Cal had hit the nail on the head with Gillian's nervousness. "Do you really think so, Cal?"

"Yeah, I do," Cal said, rising and sticking his face close into hers again. "Why - do you think I'm lying?"

Gillian cracked a smile. "Thanks, Cal, that really means a lot to me," she said softly, then turned to get back to her work.

"And, uh," Cal called to her as she left, "Go home and take an early weekend in compensation for the week I'm not giving you,"

"Really?" Foster called, rounding in the doorway to look at him.

Cal shrugged, an expression of affectionate teasing on his face. "See you and Rosie Darling bright and early Monday morning! Go get her some new toys or something,"

"It's a perfectly mature name, Cal!" Gillian called through the closing door as she walked out.


	2. Chapter 2

On a morning much too bright and sunny to be a monday, Gillian foster walked into the Lightman Group's building, shadowed by a short, quiet girl in an old, grey hoodie. The pair paused, Gillian giving the girl time to look around and take in the pristine office.

"Dr. Foster!" Cal cried from down the hall as he walked up to greet them, "How devoted of you to show up, especially after the big day! And you must be Rosie,"

"Just Rose, please," the girl muttered, looking at her shoes. Cal cocked his head at her display of shame, then put it out of his mind, remembering his promise to Gillian.

"Oh, yeah?" Cal said instead, looking at Foster with raised eyebrows that said, _I told you so._

She pursed her lips and dropped her shoulders, clearly annoyed and wanting to drop it without alerting Rose.

Cal noticed a micro expression of curiosity in Rose and decided to casually change subjects before Gillian tore his head off. "So, Rose, wondering as to what we do around here?"

Rose looked at him and nodded. "We study faces," Cal said. "That's how I could tell that you were curious just now. Through your face, and something called micro expressions. We study those micro expressions, and then use them to spot lies and solve cases,"

Rose's eyebrows pinched together for a microsecond and she gulped softly as Cal said that, her body shrinking away from him ever so slightly. Cal filed her nervous micro expression tics for later, faintly wondering why solving cases would worry Rose until his synapses clicked together.

"Are you worried that we might solve your unsolved case, Rose?" Cal asked in a voice softer than usual, cocking his head as he stared the girl down, who shrunk further behind Gillian.

Gillian, in turn, put a hand on Rose's back and glared at Lightman. "Cal," she said warningly. "Drop it,"

Rose looked up at Gillian and her nervous micro expressions crossed her face again, this time with biting her cheek added to the mix. Gillian ruffled the small teen's hair with a soothing smile and Rose flinched at her hand. Cal raised his eyebrows, watching.

"Anyways, Rose, these are some examples of the expressions we look for here," Gillian said, redirecting the girl's attention to the expansive entrance wall to their right filled with pictures of micro expressions. "These expressions only last on your face for about 1/15th of a second, and you can't control them. No one can,"

Rose said nothing, but listened intently. She was quite a sweet girl, Cal noticed, and very polite. Unusually so for a teenager coming out of an abusive situation - Cal didn't need Foster's shrink knowledge to know that usually kids started to rebel and act out as a cry for help when they had abuse-related trust issues, as Rose clearly did by her silence and nervousness.

"Wanna try and guess what the expressions are?" Gillian asked Rose with a kind smile, trying to get her to say something and involve herself in the conversation.

Rose shrugged. "Ok," she said, turning to the wall. "Um... Anger. Sadness. Surprise," she said, accurately pointing out each emotion on the wall as she studied the wall. "Joy. Anxiety." She turned to Gillian again. "Am I doing ok?"

"You're doing great," Gillian said, putting a hand on Rose's shoulder, and felt her startle at the touch. Foster furrowed her eyebrows nervously at her new foster daughter's extreme problem with contact, a clear sign of intense abuse, but didn't push it.

"In fact," Cal said from behind the pair, where he was still standing, "You did perfectly. A very impressive feat,"

Rose's eyebrows flickered together, but this time in confusion, not anxiety. "But it can't be that impressive if you do it for a living. Especially not on pictures,"

"It is for someone with absolutely no training," Cal said, cocking his head as he studied Rose. "Well, I'll see you two later, then. Happy bonding."

Gillian rolled her eyes playfully at Rose behind Cal as he walked off. "Don't worry about him, he's always like that. You know, a little..." she made the classic 'crazy' gesture by her head.

The corners of Rose's full lips rose, and her cloudy grey eyes crinkled as she looked up at Foster, who swelled at the small expression of happiness. Hope that the two could possibly even become a permanent family someday rose in Gillian like a fire, though only the slightest spark of the same thought lit in Rose. She had been kicked around far too many times to get her hopes up like that.

"Come on," Gillian said to Rose, putting her arm around the girl's slight shoulders and ignoring Rose's instinctive jump, "Why don't we go grab a snack and talk for a bit?"

"About what?" Rose asked, studying Foster's face, looking for some sort of trick.

Foster shrugged and cocked her head with her most open smile. "Whatever you want. We should get to know each other a bit,"

"Ok," Rose said softly, her eyebrows pinching in what could have been either confusion or nervousness as she waited for the other shoe to drop. When one didn't come, she followed Foster through the large building to the kitchen for a much-needed snack.

* * *

A few minutes later, Rose and Gillian sat opposite each other at one of the small tables of the Lightman Group cafeteria, eating sandwiches.

Rose watched Foster as casually as possible, silently eating her sandwich and trying not to let the awkwardness of another stranger trying to be her parent get to her. Even more awkward was that she actually _liked_ this one, which was a sin in the foster care world.

Someone like Gillian Foster would never last long with someone like Rose, she thought to herself, as Foster shot her a friendly smile over the table, waiting for Rose to say something.

Rose nervously took another bite of her sandwich, swallowing hesitantly as she searched for malice in Gillian's face and found none.

Tentatively, she opened her mouth, trying to initiate some sort of conversation. Foster's face lit up when she noticed, and she leaned back to wait for Rose to start.

Rose gulped, stuck on the uncertainty of what to say. "S-sorry," she eventually stammered out, "I don't really know what to talk about,"

"That's ok," Gillian said, cocking her head to study Rose with another perfectly friendly smile. "Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself. Like... what's your favourite colour?"

Rose raised her eyebrows, the corners of her lips almost raising into a tentative smile. "Really? That's the question you want to go with to get to know me?"

Foster, unexpectedly to Rose, barked out a laugh of surprise. "Well, you couldn't think of anything to talk about either," she joked.

"That's fair enough," Rose conceded, looking back down at her sandwich as she thought for a moment. Foster waited patiently, and a few seconds later Rose looked back up again, much more relaxed than before, Gillian noticed.

"Is it too narcissistic for me to say red?" Rose asked, her grey eyes shining with humour, and Gillian laughed again. "Not at all," she said. "Mine's purple, in case you were wondering,"

"Purple's nice," Rose said, suddenly stuck again. She had never actually had to hold a conversation for this long before, and certainly never with someone who was paying this level of attention to her.

Gillian noticed Rose's hesitation and picked the conversation up again, not wanting to stop now that she had just barely managed to crack the girl's hard shell. "So, Rose," she said, "What else do you like?"

Surprise crossed the teen's face, and she faltered again as she tried to think of an answer. "I... I don't know," she said apologetically. "I mostly just do my homework and..." she trailed off.

"And what?" Gillian asked, prodding Rose to continue.

"A-and spend time with my dad, I guess," Rose finished, micro expressions of shame, sadness and fear briefly crossing her face as she dropped her head back to her lap, lost in thought.

"Hey," Gillian said, reaching out to soothingly rub the teen's arm. "It's alright, Rose, you don't have to feel ashamed about anything." Her hand made contact with Rose's arm, and Rose audibly gasped and jumped away, not having been paying attention.

"S-sorry," Rose said morosely, gulping and resettling in her chair uneasily. Gillian sighed and pursed her lips, upset that their tentative moment of connection had been lost.

"Rose, you don't have to be sorry," Gillian said in her best ex-therapist voice, trying to calm Rose. "I just want you to know that you can trust me,"

Rose looked up at Foster with surprise and confusion written all over her face. "Um," she said, with barely more than a whisper.

"Let's go back to your favourite colour, Rose, Rose." Gillian teased, and Rose's eyes crinkled as she bit back a grateful smile.

"Can't we at least move on to favourite animals?" she joked back. "Of course," Foster smiled, and a comfortable, casual and meaningless conversation continued, which Gillian thought was just what Rose needed.


	3. Chapter 3

An hour or so later, Cal sat in his office and stared at the wall with his feet comfortably on his desk, pondering Rose and his brief interaction with her.

Mystery aside about her past abuse and the temptation Cal was pushing away to crack the girl's case, Rose had shown an above average tendency for reading micro expressions, and now Cal had a hunch.

He jumped up from his desk and strode purposely out of his office and down to Gillian's office, where he had seen her lead Rose into a few minutes ago on his way up to his office. He knocked twice, then entered anyways.

Foster and Rose were sitting next to each other on Foster's leather couch, facing each other as they casually chatted. Rose looked much more relaxed than before, though still tentative and shy.

"Hey, Foster, I'm really sorry," Cal said from the doorway, screwing up his face in an infallible impression of honest guilt. "You're needed in the lab,"

Foster instantly bought it and looked up at Cal with surprise and annoyance, her mouth falling open before she pursed her lips, but Cal was more interested by Rose, who the scene play out with doubt. Cal was shocked, but it was a pleasant surprise - even trained professionals often couldn't tell when Cal was lying.

"I'll be right back, Rose," Foster said apologetically to Rose, then glared at Cal on her way out. "This better be some emergency," she hissed at him. "I was _just_ starting to get through to her,"

Cal felt a twinge of guilt for possibly messing up Foster's connection, but it passed as he focused on his current plan of action. He watched Gillian's form go down the hall, then round the corner.

"Right," he said, snapping back into the room from the doorway and clapping his hands at Rose. "You, with me. I've got a game I'd like to play with you,"

Micro expressions of intense fear crossed the girl's face. "Why? What game?"

"Oh, just a theory I've got," Cal said, walking out of the room, then poking his head back in a second later. "Well, come on then, we haven't got all day. She'll be back in a minute, and then where will we be?" he said, jutting his head to where Foster had disappeared around the corner.

Rose's liquid grey eyes widened as the implications of what Cal had done sunk in, but she said nothing. Fearfully, she got up and followed Cal out of the room and down another long hallway.

"Right, so about this game," Cal said, stopping in a room with a projector and a touch-screen machine as Rose watched apprehensively.

Little to Rose's knowledge, Cal had taken her to the employee training room, and was now setting up the micro expressions test. "So, a face will show up here, and it'll show an expression for a brief amount of time. We'll start at, let's say... 1/10th of a second and the speed'll keep increasing. Got it?"

Rose nodded, gulping.

"Right, so, then a list of emotions will appear over here, and you'll click the right one. Simple enough?"

Rose nodded again, then stepped up to the machine at Cal's cue.

"Just click start when you're ready, sweetheart."

Rose shuddered, distrusting Cal more each second, but clicked start. A face flickered across the screen at the blink of an eye. Rose hesitantly clicked the button marked GUILT, and green checkmark filled the screen.

Quickly, Rose got into the groove of the game, and Cal watched, becoming more and more interested in this mysterious girl as she passed the 1/15th of a second level, then 1/20th of a second, then moved on to 1/25th, still with a 100% score.

Most people couldn't even keep an 80% at 1/5th of a second, which was the actual speed of a micro expression.

A door suddenly flung open behind the pair, and Rose gasped audibly, whipping around in surprise.

"What the hell is going on, Cal?" A flustered and angry Foster burst out, crossing her arms and standing in front of Cal. "Do you know how _worried_ I was when I came back to an empty office, and there wasn't even anything in the lab? Did you honestly refuse to give me the week off to spend with Rose so you could _steal_ her from me behind my back?"

The timer on Rose's 'game' buzzed, and both Cal and Gillian jumped and turned to Rose, who looked very small and very young and very guilty as she stood in front of the touch screen with wide, watery eyes.

Rose gulped, trying to form an apology, but Foster reacted first, rushing over to Rose and wrapping her in a hug. "None of that was directed at you," Gillian murmured soothingly to Rose, who was busy trying to decide how to react to the unexpected hug. "This was not your fault, ok?"

Rose gulped and nodded as she blinked rapidly, trying to form words or just make her brain start functioning again. She yearned to try Cal's game again, where she could just focus on something simple and not worry about people or other confusing things.

"Look, Foster, I'm sorry for scaring you, but the girl's a natural, and a very gifted one at that," Cal said, getting excited as he pointed to the screen, which had ended at 1/27th of a second. "My record is 1/40th after twenty-five-odd years of training!"

"Yeah, that's great," Gillian snapped, rounding on Cal, "But she's not your latest science experiment, and she's not your employee, Cal, she's my foster daughter! You could have at least _asked_ me to test her for natural ability,"

Rose gulped again, slowly backing up to the door, trying to get away from the heated argument, although she was touched by Foster's unusually kind words towards her.

Rose made it out of the room and waited just outside the doorway behind the half-closed metal door, staring without seeing the wall across from her as she took a deep breath and tried to take in her newest life, which was already turning out to be crazy.

Inside the testing room, Lightman and Foster noticed that Rose had gone. "I'd better go find her," Gillian said, shaking her head in defeat at Cal, "And later you'd better come find her too and apologize profusely,"

With that, Gillian turned on her heel and marched out of the room, where she found Rose patiently, if somewhat anxiously, waiting outside. Instantly, she was relieved, but then Foster got more worried than she would have been to find Rose had run off somewhere.

Rose _should_ have run off somewhere. She had been with Gillian for little over two hours, and was already blaming herself for running off with Cal and for Foster's panicked display of temper in the testing room afterwards. Any other foster kid, who already chronically had trouble connecting, would have acted out by now and tested their boundaries. For Rose to be internalizing her fear and guilt to such a degree meant that her abuse had been worse than Gillian had originally thought.

"Hey," Gillian said gently to Rose, who startled and looked up at Gillian. Her watery silver eyes were filled with guilt and shame, and made Gillian feel horrible. "Why don't we go back to my office and talk some more?" she asked, and Rose bit her lip in fear.

"Not like that," Foster said quickly, "You're not in trouble for anything. I just feel horrible for abandoning you,"

Rose cocked her head, and her eyes twinkled ever so slightly with... was that amusement? "Do you even know what abandoning means?" Rose asked softly, teasing.

Gillian broke out into a relieved grin, though her eyes stayed worried with the implications. "Would you care to enlighten me?" she asked. Rose shook her head, still amused, but with a dark shadow flickering over her face.

"Well then how will I ever find out what abandoning means?" Foster asked, to which Rose replied, "With a dictionary," and the two fell into a gentle banter as they walked back to Foster's office.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ready to go?" Gillian asked Rose as they headed out the door of Foster's cozy home. "And yes, we have to,"

Rose pulled a face reflexively, then her shoulders dropped in resignation without even arguing and headed for the door, following Gillian.

"Don't worry," Foster said to Rose, "it won't be very long. Besides, Cal promised he'd be very nice tonight. After all, this is his apology dinner,"

Rose's eyes crinkled at the corners as she raised her eyebrows into an expression that said, _Do you honestly believe that?_

Foster rolled her eyes with a smile. "Don't be difficult," she said teasingly, and Rose dropped eye contact, ending the 'conversation'.

They got in the car and Foster put some music on as they drove to the Lightman home, since Gillian knew that the chance of Rose wanting to talk on the way over was slim.

Foster knew that Rose wasn't being rude, she was just a shy and quiet girl by nature... _or by abuse,_ the quiet voice in the back of her head said maliciously, getting louder every time Rose flinched or froze up or didn't speak.

Besides, Rose and Foster will still conversing, just with body language and facial expressions more than words. Gillian thought that their silent communication methods were actually helping Rose trust her more, since it was much harder to lie with your face, and now Rose knew that they were on the same wavelength for them to understand each other silently.

Foster's blue car pulled into Cal's driveway, and Rose pulled the grey hood of her ratty hoodie over her head nervously.

"What's wrong?" Gillian asked Rose, catching that as an expression of nervousness - putting up protective barriers, such as crossing your arms, moving behind a table, or covering yourself with clothing, the examples now instantly flooded through Foster's professionally trained mind.

"Cal reminds me of my dad," Rose said honestly, looking up at Gillian with wide, worried eyes.

"Care to elaborate on that?" Gillian said, cocking her head. Foster really wanted Rose to open up to her about her dad, who had clearly inflicted some horrible things onto the young teen. However, Rose just shook her head. "Not really," she said apologetically.

"Well, no matter how tough and obnoxious Cal may seem," Foster said reassuringly, "He's not a bad man, and he's very protective. As long as you're with me, Cal would never even think about _thinking_ about hurting you,"

"I know," Rose said quietly. "He just... has a lot of the same mannerisms. And he sort of looks like him, too. It's kind of freaky,"

"I get it," Gillian said, carefully putting a hand on Rose's forearm. "And I'm willing to bet that there'll be a lot more men who will remind you of your dad. You've been abused, Rose, that's perfectly understandable,"

Rose studied Foster's face as she formulated a response, expressions of sadness and shame crossing her face.

Foster continued, "But just remember that I'm here for you, alright? No one is going to hurt you ever again,"

Rose was grateful for Gillian's words, but sadness still flickered across her face. "That's sort of a hard promise to keep," she said, her eyes foggy with a memory.

"I didn't promise anything," Gillian said, "I said it. Because it's true. Now let's go inside before the Lightmans start wondering what we're doing sitting in the car for so long."

* * *

"Weren't you wearing that yesterday?" Cal said upon opening the door to Rose, who was wearing her oversized, ratty grey hoodie and too-large dark sweatpants.

Gillian shot him a look as she pulled Rose in without waiting for Cal to let them through. "Cal!" she exclaimed angrily. "You said you'd be nice!"

"Well, yeah, but you've got to give me something to work with," Cal said, taking Gillian's coat off for her and putting it on the hook.

"She doesn't have anything else to wear, Cal! We're going to go shopping on the weekend since you wouldn't give me the week off, but until then this is all she's got," Gillian said exasperatedly.

"And you couldn't give her something to borrow?"

Gillian sighed, trying to control her temper. "She didn't want to, Cal."

"Sorry," Rose piped up from where she had been trying not to cower into the corner of the small entry way. "I wasn't trying to be difficult,"

"You weren't," Gillian reassured her, "He is,"

"I resent that!" Cal said, but was stopped short by synced looks from both Gillian and Rose.

"Dirty looks from Foster and the foster," Cal muttered as he retreated back into the kitchen, earning himself an even dirtier look from Gillian. "Come on, Rose, let me introduce you to my daughter Emily,"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm right here," Emily Lightman popped out from behind the wall, "And I heard everything from the kitchen, no need to catch me up." She shot her dad a sassy smile, then warmly held her hand out to Rose. "Hi, I'm Emily. You're Rose, right?"

Rose nodded, taking the older teen's hand. "I'm sorry about my dad, he's like that to everyone. And if you need clothes, I can definitely lend you something," Emily continued with an apologetic smile.

"Oh, no, d-don't worry, really..." Rose stammered, but Foster jumped on the opportunity. "Thank you so much, Emily! She'd love to borrow something from you to tide her over until the weekend,"

"No, it's really ok, don't worry..." Rose said, but she was outnumbered.

"Come on, Rose," Emily said, pulling the slight girl off to her room. "Dad can finish making dinner, right Dad?"

"Only if you want beans on toast," he said, and Foster rolled her eyes. "I'll help him," she said, "You girls go have fun,"

* * *

A few minutes later, the girls were up in Emily's room trying to find an outfit for Rose that Emily deemed suitable.

"Here, try this," Emily said what felt like hundreds of shirts later, throwing something red over to Rose, who caught it easily.

She pulled her mangy sweater off and the old grey shirt underneath and twisted herself into the latest shirt Emily had given her.

Emily seemed like a very nice girl, but she also really liked clothes, which was something Rose couldn't say was an interest she shared. She had never had to think about clothes before, since her dad had given her the old grey hoodie and sweatpants years ago, and Rose was still growing into them. Changing her clothes felt like changing her skin.

Emily seemed to agree on that point. "Holy shit Rose, you look amazing!" She said, admiring Rose's thin, hourglass figure and golden hair with red highlights that were very well complimented by the deep red shirt.

"Put on these jeans to go with it," Emily said, walking over to where Rose was standing with a pair of dark jeans in hand. "Hey, what's that?"

Emily was referring to a pencil-thin, angry red scar that ran in a too-straight line from her left collarbone all the way down her chest, where the red shirt covered its full length.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," Rose said, looking pained as she tried in vain to cover the scar with the shirt.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so obnoxious," Emily said genuinely with wide, apologetic eyes. "You don't have to tell me."

"Don't be sorry," Rose said with a resigned smile. "You didn't give it to me."

Emily shrugged. "That's true," she said. "Anyways, put on these jeans. You're gonna look _so_ hot,"

Rose flushed as red as her shirt (and her name), but her eyes shined with humour as she returned Emily's smile.


	5. Chapter 5

"Girls, come down! Dinner's ready!" Gillian yelled up the stairs, but she didn't need to. The delicious smell of homemade stew filled the house and worked better than any amount of nagging to bring the two teens downstairs.

A few seconds later, Emily and Rose walked into the kitchen, Emily happily chatting away and Rose equally happily listening.

Foster audibly gasped when she saw Rose, and even Cal took a double take. "Rose, you look fantastic," Gillian smiled down at her foster daughter as she followed Emily into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I fixed her up a bit," Emily joked with a smile as everyone took in the new Rose.

Indeed, Rose might as well have been a new person altogether.

Before, she had been hidden under layers of filthy and monotonous grey clothes that were far too big, but with the dark skinny jeans and form-fitting red top it was possible to see Rose's slight but jealous-inducing figure.

Her hair, which looked like spun gold, fell in loose, soft ringlets down her back, and her cheeks were slightly flushed (in embarrassment from all the staring) over high, dramatic cheekbones that were no longer hidden by ratty, unbrushed hair and a large hood.

Incredibly dark, full lips the colour of Rose's name sat under a delicate button nose speckled with light freckles that ran onto the tops of her cheeks as well.

In fact, everything about Rose from her lips down to her rosy skin seemed to radiate with colour, except for her eyes.

Rose's eyes were a gorgeous, captivating silver that almost seemed out of place on her, they were so large and achromatic. They peered out from behind her high cheekbones and twinkled with the compelling combination of youthful innocence and pain of experience beyond her years.

Her eyes were absolutely hypnotic, and one couldn't help but be drawn into the empathy and understanding that the muted grey suggested, yet at the same time they shone bright silver with cutting intelligence that missed nothing, and she seemed to stare right into your soul.

Overall, Rose's eyes were a mystery, much like Rose was herself.

Even though she now held a captivating beauty, though, Rose was still very much herself. After a few moments of everyone staring at her, she gulped and instinctively shrank back a bit, trying to turn invisible again.

"Um," she said quietly, taking a few seconds to form words in her usual nervous way when she had to speak, "Shouldn't we eat?"

Gillian shook herself out of her proud-parent gaze and responded professionally, "Yes, we should. Quick, before it gets cold,"

Over the meal, which was delicious, Cal continued to watch Rose from across the table, saying nothing as the other two tried to initiate her into conversation. Rose, uncomfortable and annoyed by Cal, stared back at him, and it turned into a sort of competition-type game between the two of them, each analyzing the other from across the table as they tuned the talk around them out.

His eyebrows flicked up and his eyes widened slightly. A challenge.

She squinted the slightest bit and set her jaw. _Challenge accepted._

The corners of his mouth barely twitching up, one eyebrow raising slightly. _Read me._

Her eyebrows flicked up, she squinted, her nose twitched. _That was too easy. Where's the trick?_

His eyes darted to the sides, his mouth setting. _No one else can do it. Dare ya._

She leaned back ever so slightly, dipped her chin forward. _You first._

They silently bantered back and forth for a while, both enjoying the challenge of communicating invisibly and holding a silent conversation.

"Rose? Rose, are you alright?" Foster's concerned voice cut into their silent conversation suddenly, breaking both Rose and Cal's focus.

In sync, they both startled up at Gillian, watching her with guilty expressions as they silently asked each other if they knew what the conversation they hadn't been paying attention to was about.

Gillian realized what was going on, and turned to Cal, looking annoyed. "Cal, come on, really? What were you doing to her this time?"

"Nothing!" Cal said defensively. "We were just talking, same as you two,"

"Cal, don't be ridiculous, neither of you have said a word this whole time. What could you possibly have been talking about?"

Cal said, "About her joining the Lightman group," at the same time that Rose piped up, "About me joining the Lightman group,"

"Woah," Emily said, micro expressions of surprise and amusement flickering across her face, "You guys were actually talking with just micro expressions?"

Gillian was less amused by the ordeal, though she was still impressed with her foster daughter's natural ability. "Stop forcing your ideas onto Rose, Cal. Maybe she doesn't want to start working for you at fifteen. Most people don't even want to work for you now,"

"I'm hurt," Cal said flippantly. "And maybe she does. Stop forcing your ideas onto Rose, Foster."

Gillian rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stay mad, and the upturned corners of her mouth gave her away. "We'll discuss this later. In fact, it's probably time for us to be heading home,"

"I'll go change," Rose said, meaning to slip out and give Emily back her clothes, but Emily seemed horrified by the idea. "No, keep them!" she said, pleading. "I want you to have them,"

"Are you sure?" Rose asked uncertainly. "I don't want to steal from you,"

"Of course I'm sure! But definitely take your old gross clothes back," Emily said with a teasing smile. "And maybe burn them,"

Rose's eyes crinkled with amusement and she slipped out of the room to go get her other clothes.

"So," Cal said, rounding on his daughter once Rose had left the room, "You spent some time with Foster's new kid. What'd you think?"

"She's really nice, dad," Emily said, choosing to ignore his rudeness. "She seems like a perfectly normal, shy teenager. Except her dad was a real dick,"

Cal started to scold her about swearing, but Gillian cut him off. "She told you about her dad?" she asked Emily, happy that Rose was starting to open up and the slightest bit jealous that it wasn't to her.

Emily shrugged. "Not much. Just that he gave her that scar, the one on her neck. It goes all the way down to her bellybutton in a perfectly straight line, and it's got these funny little dots next to it. She didn't want to talk about it,"

"What did he use on her?" Cal asked, already beginning to run through the possibilities in his mind. "Doubt it was an ordinary kitchen knife, the bits of scar that I saw were too precise for a blunt knife. That means it was planned, since he needed a sharp knife..."

"Dad, stop it!" Emily said, cutting off her dad's thought process. "She didn't want to talk about it, and she's not your case, so please don't read her just because you're curious!"

"It was a scalpel," a small, soft voice called from behind, startling all three of them. Rose was standing in the doorway, looking haunted by a memory as she subconsciously rubbed her scar. "So that you'll stop thinking about it, I'll tell you that much. He used a scalpel,"


	6. Chapter 6

_The blade glimmered maliciously as he brought it towards her, reflecting what little light there was directly into her eyes so that her eyes burned and began to pool. He hadn't touched her yet, but she could already feel what was to come - first, the metal, cool and almost nice, then breaking cleanly into her skin, then the burst of pain, then the dripping blood. It hadn't touched her yet; instead he was moving towards her slowly, ever so slowly, enjoying every second of her quivering in fear of what was to come. It was the anticipation that was getting to her, oh god, the anticipation - the knowing that this was inevitable, that she was powerless to stop it, the possibilities of what was to come running endlessly through her mind, and all the while the blade got closer... and closer... and closer... and_

Rose, cloaked in sweat, sat up in her cozy new bed in her cozy new room that Dr. Foster had given her, yet again utterly unable to sleep, no matter how cozy.

The problem with sleeping, Rose decided, was that it gave her too much time to think without anything else to distract herself from the thoughts and memories in her head.

So Rose got up, and with the practised silent stealth of a ninja, made her way downstairs in the dark to Dr. Foster's kitchen to get herself a drink of water.

She flicked on a single light once downstairs so that she didn't wake up Gillian, then gently took a cup from the cupboard and filled it in the sink. The rush of the running water seemed impossibly loud compared to the silence of the house.

"Not tired?" A familiar female voice said suddenly from behind Rose. Rose nearly jumped out of her skin, whipping around to find Foster, who was leaning against the table, watching Rose with an expression that was hard to read.

Rose put her hand to her forehead, rubbing her face in a self-soothing gesture. "You scared me," she exclaimed breathlessly. For the past few nights, Rose had learned that Gillian was a morning person and usually went to bed rather early, so Rose hadn't been expecting her to be up past 11:30.

"Sorry," Foster said, "I didn't mean to. Now care to tell me what you're doing up so late?"

Rose shook her head. "Care to tell me why _you're_ up so late?"

Foster's eyes crinkled, but she looked exasperated. "Rose," she warned.

Rose's face flicked with uncertainty as she decided what to tell Foster. "I couldn't sleep," she said eventually.

Gillian raised her eyebrows. "For the fourth night in a row of the four nights you've been here?"

Rose's face twitched with something dark, too quickly for Foster to read. She said nothing, her voice freezing as she ran through feeling bad that she had woken Gillian, worried that Gillian was going to get mad, frustrated over not being able to sleep, paranoid from the nightmares that kept her awake, and though she wouldn't admit it to herself, just the slightest bit relieved that Foster had noticed.

"Why don't we go talk for a bit?" Gillian asked in a voice that made it clear she wasn't asking.

"Actually," Rose said, faking a yawn, "I just got really tired. I think I'll go to bed, and we can talk tomorrow,"

Gillian shot her an annoyed look. "Seriously, Rose," she said in her best ex-therapist voice. "You need to sleep, and you're clearly not going to be able to until you tell me what's been keeping you up. Go sit on the couch,"

Fear and uncertainty flickered across Rose's face as she studied Foster carefully, not moving.

"Please? I'll make hot chocolate," Gillian smiled. Rose's shoulders dropped in defeat and she went over to the couch. Internally, Rose chastised herself for giving in so easily, but she knew she just couldn't argue with the first person who had ever shown her kindness.

Two minutes later, Rose and Gillian sat next to each other on the couch, holding steaming cups that released a pleasant smell of chocolate, Gillian angled towards Rose and Rose facing forwards but on the verge of turning away, curling up protectively into the corner of the couch.

"Alright, Rose," Gillian said, firmly but not unkindly, "Talk,"

"About what?" Rose asked. She wasn't being sassy or uncooperative; she honestly didn't know what to say. No one had ever asked for her thoughts before.

"About why you can't sleep," Gillian responded gently, cocking her head as she fastidiously watched Rose, who squirmed uncomfortably under Foster's attentive gaze.

"I... have nightmares," Rose said after an extended pause. "About... things that happened. Things he- he did to me,"

"He being your father?" Gillian clarified, but Rose's brow furrowed. "Not just my father," she whispered, but didn't elaborate.

"Who else?" Gillian asked, but Rose didn't even look at her. "Who else, Rose?"

Rose looked up at Foster, her silver eyes piercing into Foster's, haunted, as she searched for an answer. "My other foster families," she said eventually, dropping her gaze back down to her knees.

Gillian breathed in, shocked. The social worker in charge of Rose hadn't mentioned any abuse other than possibly being hit by her father. In fact, now that Gillian thought about it, the social worker had barely even mentioned that, and had to be pressed by Gillian just to check it out on the girl's file.

"Tell me about your social worker," Gillian said, surprising Rose with the sudden change of topic. "Did she help you out when you were being abused by your other foster families?"

Rose's brow furrowed, even more confused by Gillian question. "No," she said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, "The social workers only care about you when you've got connections to the press or family who might complain. I don't even think she even knows my full name,"

"Well, that's a real problem," Gillian said, pulling out her smartphone to mark something in her calendar. "In fact, I'm going to call up social services tomorrow and make a complaint about her. She shouldn't be allowed to be in charge of kids' _lives_ if she's like that,"

Rose's eyes widened. "No, please don't!" she said with an edge of panic.

"Why not?" Gillian asked, cocking her head.

Rose gulped. "She always gives the worst treatment to the kids who complain. Awful families, slow response time to getting you things like new clothes or school forms, and she never answers any questions or emails and stuff," she confessed.

"What made you think you were going to another family anytime soon?" Gillian asked, back to therapist-questioning mode.

Rose flushed and looked away, shrugging slightly, but didn't answer. She didn't need to - Gillian knew that the average time a foster kid stayed in a family was very low, certainly not long enough for many familiar bonds to be formed. It partially explained why Rose didn't talk much - she was putting up walls to prevent her from getting too close before she got ripped away again.

Then again, the dark voice in Gillian's mind said, if Rose mentioned she was being abused in some of her foster homes, she couldn't get away fast enough. Gillian couldn't imagine how stressed Rose would be at every new home she went to, wondering if the torment here would be better or worse than the last, and what form it would come in. No wonder she couldn't sleep.

"Rose," Foster said, moving closer to Rose on the couch so she could put a hand on the teen's back, which felt too bony for Foster's liking, "it took me a long time and a lot of effort to get a kid. I'm not just giving you up so easily, so get used to it - you're not going anywhere."

Rose looked up at Gillian, looking like she was trying not to cry, but then the corner of her mouth lifted the slightest bit. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked, her eyes crinkling with humour just enough for Foster to catch it, who grinned back.

"I don't know," Gillian responded, pulling Rose into a tight hug. "You're my first kid. Think you can handle me?"

Rose stiffened in surprise at the hug, but then relaxed into Foster's side at the joke, and even though she didn't return the hug, that was enough for Gillian. "I don't know," Rose said, her voice muffled from Foster's vantage point, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

* * *

"Something seems different about your kid," Cal said to Gillian as the two of them watched Emily and Rose (though mostly Emily) talk the next day from the conference room.

Gillian said, "It's trust, Cal. She's starting to feel safer in her new environment,"

"Trust?" Cal said, wrinkling his nose. "Not even you're good enough to get a foster kid to feel safe in a week, especially an abused one, even with me being the bad guy so you can play hero to her,"

"Right, Cal," Gillian teased, rolling her eyes, "that's why you're an ass. Is the concept of trust so hard for you believe?"

"Yes," Cal replied, closing himself off from all of Gillian's attempts to pry into his feelings. He cocked his head for a moment, thinking. "Maybe it's the new clothes that's different about her,"

"You know, for someone who wants me to let Rose start working for you, you're very untactful at convincing me she's ready,"

"Tact? I don't need tact!" Cal exclaimed, "I've got logic. She wouldn't _work_ here, she'd study here, and we could homeschool her all that boring school stuff much faster than any school could. She's got quite a mind, you know,"

"I know, Cal, that's why I don't want to cut off any opportunities for her now," Gillian pointed out.

"Are you saying that working with the Lightman Group would be cutting her off?" Cal cried. "She'd have way more fun here than sitting in a classroom, and she'd get real experience at a whole bunch of different things! Science, lab work, computer-y stuff, detective work, psychology, and of course, micro expressions reading - she's got a lot of natural talent that we could hone in on here,"

Gillian sighed, pursing her lips with an eye roll. "I'll think about it," she said eventually, "But it's Rose you really need to convince, not me. All she wants is a normal life, and she wouldn't get one here. Plus, don't you think that Emily would be jealous that you want Rose to work here and not her?"

"Nah, Emily doesn't want to work for me. I asked her if she wanted to be homeschooled once, and she told me to sod off,"

Gillian bit back a smile. "And was it after she brought some boy home?"

"Maybe," Cal said, "But that's not what matters. You know, if Rose worked here, you could bond with her a lot more,"

"I said I'll think about it, Cal! School doesn't even start yet, it's only August!"

"Why doesn't she work with us for the summer, then, and then she can decide whether or not to go to school?" Cal compromised.

"I'll approve it if she wants to," Gillian conceded, "But _only_ if she wants to, and no scaring her into it, Cal, I mean it,"

"Good enough for me," Cal said, and walked out of the conference room, leaving Gillian to think about what she had just agreed to.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose wandered around the Lightman Group's eerily silent building, utterly alone as what seemed like every employee was out doing field work on the latest case.

Without really looking for anything in particular to do until Dr. Foster returned with a promise to take Rose out for ice cream later, Rose found herself trailing down a familiar path until she reached a room she recognized all too well.

There, in the middle of the room just like she remembered it, was the micro expression 'game' machine that Cal had shown Rose on her first day with Gillian.

Rose stood in the doorway, hesitating for a moment before going in, though she wasn't sure why. She knew she was _allowed_ to play the game, same as everyone else in the building, but after Dr. Foster's freak-out at Cal, Rose had stayed away from playing this particular game.

However, today she was bored, and it wasn't like there was anyone around anyways.

Rose stepped up to the machine, set it to start playing micro-expressions at 1/10th of a second, and pushed the big green button labelled START.

A man's face appeared on screen, as did the names of various emotions. Rose hesitated for a second, then pushed NEUTRAL. A check mark filled the screen.

Rose continued on in this fashion for a while, excitement rising in her as she passed 1/10th of a second, then 1/15th, then 1/20th. If she remembered correctly, last time she had made it to 1/27th of a second, and this time Rose was determined to beat that score.

After all, she had nothing but time and nothing else to do. Gillian wasn't set to be back for another two or three hours.

The score counter continued to rise, and Rose quickly beat her score of 1/27th of a second, continuing on to the 1/30th's.

"Having fun, love?" An all-too-familiar male voice asked, and Rose jumped and whipped around, gasping audibly at the scare of an unexpected person creeping up behind her.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Cal Lightman, leaning against the door's frame with his arms crossed and a pleased smile on his face.

"You scared me," Rose gasped, subconsciously pushing herself backwards until she was leaning against the machine. Behind her, the game timed out and a loud buzzer filled the room, signalling the game was over. Rose checked her score quickly. It was 1/38th of a second, she noted, pleased.

"That's quite a good score," Cal said, motioning to the machine, keeping his voice and face completely unreadable.

"Uh, s-sorry," Rose gulped, still easily nervous around most people, especially adult men. "I d-didn't know I wasn't supposed to play."

"Of course you're allowed to play," Cal said, cocking his head. "In fact, I've got an even better game. Come on," he said, motioning his head and walking out of the room.

Rose hesitantly followed, though she carefully kept a bit of distance between her and Cal. "I didn't know anyone had gotten back yet," she said carefully after a time.

Cal just shrugged nonchalantly. "Only me. I'm something of a quick worker," he said, flashing her a grin, which Rose didn't return.

"So, um... when's Dr. Foster gonna get back?" she asked instead, her heart rate increasing despite herself. Though in her mind Rose knew Cal probably wasn't going to hurt her, being in an empty building with him for possibly a few hours gave her the creeps. The fact that he reminded her so much of her dad didn't help, either.

Cal just shrugged in response to her question. "In a few hours, probably. Her and Loker are out questioning some false lead."

Rose furrowed her brow in confusion. "Well, if you know it's a false lead, aren't you going to tell them?"

Cal shrugged yet again, shooting her a look that sent chills down her spine. "Or, I could let them figure it out for themselves and have two hours alone with you."

Rose gulped and said nothing, her whole body going numb with fear.

They made it to the room that Dr. Foster had shown Rose was the interrogation room. "W-w-what are we doing here?" Rose managed to ask through her fear.

She wished she had a cell phone to call someone for help. But who would she call? Her first instinct was to call Dr. Foster, but Rose knew she couldn't bother Gillian after being in her charge for so little time. Then Rose chastised herself and shook herself out of her racing thoughts. She didn't even have a cell phone; it was useless trying to think of who she would call.

"Like I said, we're gonna play a game, love." Cal said, motioning for Rose to sit in a fancy-looking swivel chair as he sat in one of his own, putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. The desk in question was full of fancy equipment and shiny computer monitors, and Rose couldn't help but study them despite herself.

Fearfully, Rose took a seat in the fancy armchair, not breaking her gaze from Cal as she tried to figure out what was going on, and tried not to visibly shake.

"So, here's the game," Cal said, booting up the computers in front of the pair with a loud beep. The screens illuminated his face in the dark room with an eery green tinge. He looked over at Rose, cocking his head with an expression of concern that completely changed gears from his terrifying indifference that he'd had up until now.

"What'sa matter love, you nervous?"

Pale, Rose mutely shook her head, wiping the sweat off her brow with shaking hands.

"Right, so here's the game," Cal continued, leaning back into his chair as he gestured to the monitors. "Up here is all of the information we have so far on the case we're currently working on. You know, the one with the hijacked bank and the supposedly corrupt lawyers who replaced a stack of gold bars with a dead body?"

Rose nodded, unable to come up with words.

"Right, so. On this, this and this monitor," Cal continued, pointing at a few monitors playing silent videos, "Are live-stream feedback of everything we're doing in the field right now, and the interviews we conducted yesterday with all of the bank staff."

Rose blinked at him, silently saying: _Ok, so why am I here?_

"And you, Rose, are gonna solve the case." Cal said, smiling amicably as he rested his arms behind his head, still leaning back. He gestured to the screens with his head when Rose continued to sit still, watching him suspiciously. "Well, go on then, that's the game. And hurry up, it's a matter of life and death."

Rose stared at Cal, shocked and horrified and very anxious with the pressure he had just put on her, before turning her attention to the screens.

After a moment of scanning everything, she cocked her head in confusion and turned back to Cal. "I don't understand," she said in that quiet, nervous way of hers. "Why'd you show me what Loker and Dr. Foster are doing if you already told me that they're following a false lead?"

Cal shrugged. "Well, that's part of the game," he said, his eyes shining maliciously in the green glow. "Was I lying?"

Rose gulped, a pit in her stomach, and turned back to the screens. "No," she said, instantly noticing micro-expressions that indicated honesty on the man Loker was currently grilling, even if she couldn't specify what the expressions were. "But she is," Rose swivelled, pointing to a screen on the bottom left, where one of the bank employees was clearly lying about something.

Something shifted on Cal's face as he followed Rose's finger. He hadn't noticed that, and now he gulped with nervousness. Had he been wrong in thinking that he'd solved the case?

"Can we turn the sound on for that video?" Rose asked, now studying the lying bank teller intently.

Cal nodded, "Absolutely," and pushed another button.

"...you recognize any of these people?" Ria Torres' voice said in the video, as she placed some mugshots in front of the female teller.

"Uh... no," The bank teller gulped on screen, sounding honest to Cal's ears. Rose, however, cocked her head. "Her voice is shaking," she murmured to herself.

"Is it?" Cal asked with as much indifference as he could muster, trying to discern the sound for himself. He ran the teller's voice through an audio analyzer, pretending he was doing it for Rose.

Wavy patterns emerged on the screen, proving Rose correct. "Looks like you were right, love," Cal said, righting himself out of the chair and turning the monitors off.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked.

"I'm going to catch a killer," Cal said, his eyes grinning with excitement. "And you're coming with me."

* * *

"So, according to our compiled list of clues, whoever is guilty shouldcome out of that door there to meet up with the gang in charge of this. Now, if our theory is correct, Elma Sanchez is in charge, and she'll-"

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," Rose - in a very uncharacteristic way - interrupted Cal with a shaking voice that was barely above a whisper.

Cal had just parked the car on a dark, empty, side street, and now they were waiting for the supposed guilty bank employee to come out the back door of the bank and pass off some gold bars to the supposed other guilty people.

"Well it's too late to back out now, Darling," Cal joked, making a play on Rose's last name that went unappreciated by the Darling in question.

Rose gulped, blinking back tears of fear that were forming hotly behind her molten silver eyes. "Cal, I can't- I can't just face down a _murderer_ and her _gang._ "

"You can and you will, sweetheart," Cal said, about to turn to Rose before something caught his eye. "Oop, looks like it's now or never," he said, giving Rose a playful look.

Rose looked on, something hardening behind her eyes. If Cal hadn't been focusing on the group of killers out the window, he would have seen the way Rose's entire face changed, her expression turning unrecognizable from the shy, sweet girl she had been moments earlier.

It was Rose's street face, the one all foster kids and abused kids used as a mask to hide their vulnerability and protect themselves from the world when left to face it utterly alone.

The bank teller, who was apparently named Elma Sanchez, came out the side door and knocked on the side of the building three times.

"Looks like you were right, then," Cal murmured, probably expecting Rose to be pleased with her success. Rose, however, was huddling down in her seat, desperately wishing she had a knife or at least a cell phone, not that her face gave any of this away. As it was now, she was completely helpless and at the mercy of the man who had forced her into this, just like always, so she instinctively masked all of her emotions, just like always.

Out of the alley came three thugs, one clearly the leader of the pack.

"The one in the back on the left has a gun in a holster on his left-hand side," Rose whispered to Cal, so quietly he almost didn't hear her. "The one next to him has a knife in his right boot, right sleeve and back left pants pocket. The one in front is completely unarmed other than the brass knuckles. Oh, no, wait, he has a gun too. Down the back of his shirt."

"Wha- how do you know that?" Cal asked, his eyes briefly flickering down to the golden-haired teen in shock. But Rose didn't reply, too focused on staying alive to care about explaining, her eyes continuing to scan the scene in front of her with robotic accuracy.

In front of them, Elma Sanchez pulled a gold bar out of her bag and handed it to the thug in the middle.

"Now's our chance! Go, go, go!" Cal yelled, jumping out of the car while brandishing a gun he had seemingly pulled form nowhere.

Rose's eyes bugged out. Cal wasn't supposed to have that! He was going to get both of them arrested!

"GO!" Cal screamed at her, so angry and so much like her father that Rose leaped out of the car out of fear. He noticed her micro expressions, and softened his gaze only enough for Rose to notice, his voice staying hard and loud. "It's ok, I've already called for police backup! We just need to detain them, NOW!"

Rose ran on Cal's heels towards the group of thugs, every cell in her body screaming at her that this was a terrible idea, that she should stay _unnoticed_ and _out of the way_ to stay _safe,_ not fling herself headfirst into _danger danger danger_ the men had pulled out their guns!

Adrenaline pounding, Rose faked left and then dodged right, subconsciously noticing that the one with his gun aimed at her was left-handed and would have a slightly harder time aiming accurately on the right.

In the moment he took to adjust his gun from her fake-left, Rose jumped on him, throwing her shoulder into his gut and knocking the wind out of his as she grabbed his gun and threw it as far as she could against the wall. She barely heard it shatter as it broke into pieces.

She looked up to see that Cal had tripped the first thug unconscious and was now holding Elma Sanchez against a wall. Rose, breathing hard, turned her head and braced herself to handle the last thug, who was to her right.

They turned to each other at the same moment, making eye contact. Grey eyes took in grey eyes.

When Rose registered who it was she was looking at, she flinched so hard she flung herself backwards, gasping audibly, and he did the same, backing against a wall as he stared at her in shock.

Then, just as suddenly, the blaring wail of police sirens echoed down the side of the building from the street, and a second later the area was flooded with police officers.

The two sets of silver eyes jumped apart in adrenaline-filled surprise at the sound, but like magnets, they found each other's gaze again barely seconds later.

Faced with his hard, cruel gaze again stirred up all sorts of unwanted memories and feelings inside of Rose, memories and feelings which she tried her absolute hardest to push back down. Rose looked on in disgust with an unforgiving look in her eye, but then she saw his eyes twitch, and his face muscles soften with something. An apology.

That was one step too far for Rose, and she swallowed down bile and broke away from his gaze, saying loud and clear with her expression that she did not and would not ever forgive him. But forgiveness rose inside of her anyways, and an all-too-familiar hope that threatened to burst through her carefully-constructed shell.

Rose, with one last awful, fearful look into the familiar, grey eyes of the thug who was so, so much more than just a thug, bit her lip in deep thought before turning and running down the alley, single-mindedly focused on getting as far away from his as possible.


	8. Chapter 8

Gillian rushed out of the squad car, deftly avoiding a flying gob of spit from one of the now-captured thugs with the ease of practise from being on the job for so long.

She casually tuned out the swarm of cops around her with a single-minded focus to find Cal and make sure he was alright, then get back to the Lightman Group building and take Rose out for ice cream like she had promised earlier that morning.

Gillian sighed with relief just thinking about it; it had been a trying day, and she could think of nothing more relaxing than continuing to bond with Rose, who was remarkably easy to talk to considering how little she spoke herself.

Though Gillian always tried her best to get her teenage charge to speak up, it was a nice change to do most of the talking and actually get listened to compared to Cal's overpowering personality and knack for interruption.

Not to mention, Gillian had quite the sweet tooth, and could think of nothing better than a chocolate ice cream cone on such a hot day.

"Cal!" Gillian called, spotting him leaning uncharacteristically against a wall, sweating and looking thoroughly beat. Trying not to get too much filth on her shoes, Gillian quickly stepped through the rubble, noticing large amounts of blood staining the ground. Fearfully, she hoped that Cal hadn't been hurt.

"Cal!" Gillian cried again when she reached him. She noticed a puncture wound in his side that he had gripped with one hand, and the realization of what had happened hit her like a bullet. "Cal, are you alright?"

"Who, me?" Cal said, looking into her eyes with his usual charming grin. "I'm fine, love. A mere flesh wound, I've got."

"Mere flesh wound?!" Gillian chastised, but there was that caring look in her eye that was always there as she put a hand on Cal's shoulder and gently guided him to the ground. "You were shot, Cal. But you solved the case. Congratulations," she smiled at him, knowing exactly what to say to cheer him up.

But instead, his grin faded, filling Gillian with anxiety. "What happened, Cal? What's wrong?"

"Um," Cal said, at a loss for words for the first time that Gillian could remember. "Yeah, you're not gonna like this..." he said.

"Cal." Gillian's mind raced, running through the millions of things that could be wrong. Was his organ punctured? Did someone get away? "Cal, what?"

"I just want to say first that I did not know this was gonna happen," Cal said, most likely the closest he would get to an apology.

"Cal. What. Happened?"

"Rose's been shot."

* * *

Gillian didn't remember slapping Cal across the face.

She didn't remember his fumbled explanation or apology.

She didn't even remember getting up and running across the square, screaming at the cops to find Rose and to call an ambulance.

Her ears were ringing.

She ran down an alleyway, no longer even remembering to care about keeping her shoes clean.

She couldn't think, couldn't concentrate. The adrenaline was pumping through her so fast that she couldn't hear.

"Rose!" Gillian screamed.

Up ahead, leaning against the wall of an alley, was a familiar silhouette of a girl, still trying to run even as blood spurted through her fingers. Upon hearing her name, though, Rose turned to the sound, facing Gillian.

Rose's expression was downright haunted, every muscle in her face a sketch of sadness purer than Gillian had ever seen as she looked through Gillian towards whatever thought she was lost in. Her eyes were beginning to glaze over as the blood loss got to her, giving her the look of a ghost who hadn't died yet.

It was in that moment that Gillian first noticed how underfed Rose was, all the bones in her face seeming to push through her stretched skin as they were over-exaggerated by the alleyway's dark shadows.

"Rose!" Gillian cried again, rushing over to her foster daughter a second too late to catch her as Rose suddenly fell to the ground, instantly and without any noise or dramatic flailing. She just fell, like her body was already a corpse.

"Omigod," Gillian heaved, falling to her knees next to Rose. "Oh my god."

The EMTs came then, swarming out from behind her as they yelled into their crackling walkie-talkies and just generally rushing about and taking over the area the way EMTs do.

One of them picked up Rose, only needing one hand.

Someone wrapped a shock blanket around Gillian, warm and soft and very contrasting to the general scene of things around her.

The last thing Gillian saw before she blacked out herself was the stretcher with Rose on it being loaded onto the back of an ambulance.


End file.
